"Rusch-WithoutEnd" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rusch Kristine Kathryn)

He listened and heard nothing except the pulse of the ocean, powerful,
throbbing, a pulse that had more life than he did. "Hear what?"

"The waves."

In her pause, he listened to them crash against the sand, the heart of the
pulse.

"It's so redundant," she said.

"What is?" He turned, his attention fully on her. She looked like a clothed
Venus, rising out of the sand, hair wrapped around her, eyes sparkling with
unearthly light.

"Sound is a wave, a wave is sound. We stand here and listen to nature's
redundance and call it beautiful."

He leaned into her, feeling her solidness, her warmth. "It is beautiful."

She grinned at him. "It's inspiring," she said, and pulled her hand out of his
pocket. She walked down to the edge where the Pacific met the Oregon coast. He
didn't move, but watched her instead, wishing he could paint. She looked so
powerful standing there, one small woman facing an ocean, against a backdrop of
stars.

He went through her papers for the university, separating them into piles with
equations and piles without. The cat sat on the piles without, watching the
proceeding with a solemnness that suited the occasion.

Dylan's knowledge of physics and astronomy came from Geneva. He had had three
semesters in college, a series called Physics for Poets (hardly any equations),
and by the time he met her, most of his knowledge was out of date.

(If you knew so little about women, Geneva once said, I'd be explaining to you
what my clitoris is.)

His specialty was philosophy, not so much of the religious type, even though he
could get lost in Middle Ages monkish romanticism, but more a political strip:
Descartes, Locke, Hegel, and John Stuart Mill. He liked to ponder unanswerable
questions. He had met Geneva that way -- one afternoon, wind off the lake,
Wisconsin in the summer, sitting on the Union Terrace, soaking up the rays and
pretending to study. Only he wasn't even pretending, he was arguing basic
freshman philosophy: if a tree falls in the forest, and no one hears it, does it
make a sound? Geneva had been passing at the time -- all legs and tan and too
big glasses on a too small nose.

Of course, she said, because it makes a disturbance and the disturbance makes a
wave, and that wave is sound.

He didn't remember what he said in response. Something intriguing enough to make